


Troublemaker

by versti_fantur



Series: You look so pretty and I love this view [1]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, I can only apologise for this mess, M/M, Song Lyrics, bad dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23316718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versti_fantur/pseuds/versti_fantur
Summary: Íþróttaálfurinn takes Glanni up in his balloon and romantically serenades him. But he can't sing. Or dance. And Glanni is one more cringy 2000s pop hit away from launching himself out of the balloon.
Relationships: Glanni Glæpur/Íþróttaálfurinn
Series: You look so pretty and I love this view [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698631
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Troublemaker

**Author's Note:**

> I headcannon Íþró singing with Magnus' actual voice (not the voice actor used in the plays/tv show) which is allegedly awful so,,, xD
> 
> Also I'm aware I'm kinda posting a lot so sorry about that but I've got nothing better to do in quarantine lmao

“What the fuck have you done to your balloon?” Glanni took one look at Íþróttaálfurinn’s latest addition to his home before promptly stopping in his tracks and turning to leave.

“It’s a CD player! The kids say they’re all the rage these days!” Íþróttaálfurinn grabbed Glanni’s arm and spun him back around, practically dragging him to the balloon.

“I know what a fuckin CD player is, but that _thing_ is _huge_ ,” He gestured towards the large black speakers that were precariously balanced on the edge of the basket, and the other stack of electrical stuff beneath them, wires and cords of all descriptions tangled together in one giant heap. With the basket being made out of wood or wicker or whatever, it was almost certainly some sort of fire hazard too. They were probably only staying in place thanks to weird elven magic, but Glanni couldn’t be bothered to ask.

“Is it?” Íþróttaálfurinn shrugged. “The salesman said it was the best model at the best price!”

Glanni groaned in response. He really should teach Íþró how to avoid blatantly obvious scams one day, but that required effort, and dear gods was he tired.

“Nevermind then,” he sighed, and settled himself on the floor in the corner of the basket, opposite the monstrosity of a sound system. He ducked his head as Íþró launched the balloon, so he didn’t have to see the ground shrinking beneath them. Honestly he didn’t even understand why he’d agreed to come along with Íþró, yknow, due to his crippling fear of heights. But then Íþró turned around to adjust some ropes and oh yeah, that ass was why.

Once they’d reached 2000ft, (or so Íþró told him), Glanni finally stood up, pointedly _not_ looking down. He did notice, though, that Íþró was fiddling with something on the CD player, and eventually a vaguely familiar melody began to play, mildly deafening him from the too-big speakers. 

Oh no. Oh gods no. Not this. Had Íþró always been such a sadist, or was that just Glanni’s influence? And who’d have thought he’d be so cruel as to use _Olly Murs_ against him? Things got worse, however, as Íþróttaálfurinn jumped around to face him, and began singing (or rather, shouting) along with the lyrics.

“You’re a troublemaker! You’re a troublemaker!”

Then came the dancing. Fucking hell, _the dancing_. Íþró may have been good at sports, but he danced like the “cool” and “trendy” maths teacher at a primary school disco. His arms flew everywhere, and by a vague definition, his hips might’ve been swaying to the beat, but oh no, he’d reached the chorus-

“Trouble, troublemaker yeah that’s your middle name!” Íþró yelled, excessively pointing at Glanni for emphasis.

“I’m rather offended that the word you’ve chosen to describe my – rather notorious – criminal record is ‘troublemaker’” Glanni grumbled, but his voice was lost within the music.

Suddenly Íþró becan swinging his arms even more and,, was he,,, was he _flossing_? For once, Glanni was glad they were several thousand feet in the air, and it meant no one else had to witness,, _this_. Forget the maths teacher, Íþró had moved onto PE teacher territory, and Glanni wanted nothing more than to throw himself out of the basket.

Though if Íþró kept dancing the way he was, it wouldn’t be Glanni’s own volition that caused him to fall from the balloon; the basket was swaying dangerously, and Glanni’s knuckles were white as he clutched onto the side as hard as he could.

“Stop it you absolute fucking maniac!” He screeched over the music, waving one arm in Íþró’s direction for emphasis, but the elf mistook his gesture for a desire to join in, and grabbed his hand with a mischievous grin.

“You’re going to kill us both!” Glanni tried again, snatching his hand away and placing it firmly back on the basket. Frowning, but undeterred, Íþró continued. He raised one arm to his chest, then waved the other in a sort-of infinity sign, and wiggled both his arms out to the side. He folded them upwards and horizontally again, before swinging one out in a circle. The penny finally dropped and Glanni understood what he was doing. Holy shit. The elf was seriously doing the fucking _Renegade_. It wasn’t even the right song to dance that to?

Glanni groaned again, and slid to the floor, his head on his knees so he didn’t have to see anything else ever again. This was it. Íþró had finally figured out how to ruin his life.

He glanced up as Íþró knelt in front of him, the song having finally ended.

“I hate you.” He muttered, not really meaning it.

“I hate you too.” Íþró smiled warmly at him, with only a hint of smugness, and not really meaning it either. He offered Glanni his hand as he stood back up, and Glanni reluctantly took it, thankful that the basket was no longer violently shaking. But then another song began playing through the speakers and Glanni’s face paled.

“Oh gods, not again… Íþró no- don’t you fucking dare-“ He was cut off as Íþró spun him around, yelling lyrics again.

“Mama I’m in looove with a criminalll”

“At least ‘criminal’ is better than ‘troublemaker’” Glanni muttered to himself as he was dragged around the basket in a vague attempt at dancing. It almost seemed as though Íþró was attempting to ballroom dance in the whole 4m squared of floor space, with all the spins and dips he was tossing Glanni into.

Who even waltzes to Britney Spears?? It didn’t even fit the time signature of the music for fucks sake??

Against literally every braincell Glanni possessed, he began to smile, and maybe, _possibly_ , he was enjoying it slightly? Íþró beamed, and danced more enthusiastically. Glanni rolled his eyes, but didn’t resist anymore, even adding his own dramatic spin which caught Íþró off guard and ended with him almost being accidentally slapped.

This time when the song stopped, Íþró switched the CD player off, and the two sat down against it, Íþró still holding Glanni’s hand.

“I really fuckin hate you, and if you ever do that again I’m leaving.” Glanni leant his head on Íþró’s shoulder, and the man next to him chuckled.

“I know, and I love you too.” Came the reply, and Glanni buried his face further into Íþró’s neck, feeling warm and happy and loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to watch compilations of Renegade for this, and I still don't think I described it quite right... 
> 
> Comments/kudus warm my soul :)


End file.
